


sign on the window

by vtforpedro



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky is so done, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Injuries, POV Bucky Barnes, Softe and Warme, Veterinarian Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 19:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30110622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtforpedro/pseuds/vtforpedro
Summary: In which Bucky isn’t fond of superheroes, especially when they crash-land in his backyard, but there’s more to Steve Rogers than just a uniform of red, white and blue.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 45
Kudos: 258





	sign on the window

If Bucky is glad for anything, it’s that he lives in the suburbs of New York City, away from the general madness.  
  
That’s all it can be called these days; madness and if it weren’t for the dawn of superheroes, maybe they wouldn’t live in such madness. Sometimes he can stand in his backyard and see the smoke and hear faint explosions and Bucky can only be glad he moved out of Brooklyn ten years ago.  
  
It’s been such a common occurrence since the whole space opening up and releasing thousands of aliens thing that Bucky only turns on the news to make sure it’s not heading his way. If it is, he packs the animals in the truck and drives to his mom’s, and hopes the house is still there when he gets back.  
  
The government has a package come out every few months, it feels like, to reimburse citizens for the general chaos and carnage.  
  
There’s just no cleaning out alien blood from the inside of your car.  
  
Bucky has opinions about it all and he mostly keeps those opinions to himself. Everyone argues about superheroes these days and even Sunday night dinners with the family, the topic inevitably goes to one or all of them. Bucky would like to pretend they don’t exist most days because the entire world has had to face a new reality since they all banded together and formed their super superhero club.  
  
He’s tired of them, and he’s tired of listening to his sister talk about Captain America’s ass, he’s tired of turning on the news on quiet days and not escaping a segment on superheroes.  
  
His mom and sister might kill him if he says _back in my day, there were no superheroes_ one more time, but it makes Dad laugh every time.  
  
Bucky left Brooklyn and the madness not because of superheroes but because he wanted a little peace and quiet in his life before they came around. After he got discharged from the Army, he lived in the borough still and went to school in Manhattan to become a veterinarian. Bucky has a lot of opinions on the military these days but he keeps them to himself too. Most of the time, anyway.  
  
Animals are easier. Friendlier, even if they want you to think otherwise. Bucky was a medic in the Army and when he came out, fixing humans was about the last thing he wanted to do, so it made sense to fix animals because he’s always had a soft spot for them. His family has never been without dogs, at the very least, and Bucky grew up with snakes and birds and rats in his room, whatever he felt like having next, so he’s got the experience beyond the degree.  
  
Still pisses him off when he has to close the practice he shares with his partner because superheroes and aliens or gods turned evil decide to visit New York and they’re advised to move away, even outside of the city like they are.  
  
They’re like tornado warnings, Bucky supposes, mostly a pain in the ass but every once in a while, you’re concerned your house might not be there in the morning.  
  
It’s one of those days today and Bucky thinks they’re becoming more common. He’s sitting on his sofa and shaking his head at his television as it broadcasts the latest catastrophes in the city. The way the broadcasters get loud and excited whenever Spider-Man or Iron Man go zooming by like they’re calling a game makes Bucky shake his head even more.  
  
He can’t hear any explosions quite yet and the government has a warning system that’ll make his phone start screeching if it all gets out of control.  
  
“Why’s it always New York,” Bucky mutters as he scratches Duff’s head in his lap.  
  
Duff is an eighty-pound pit bull-rottweiler mix with more rott than pit in him and he’s going on eleven years old soon. His greys have come in nicely and these days, he likes to sit on the couch and put his head in Bucky’s lap and occasionally sigh loudly in complaint when Duchess the slinky white cat crawls across him to drape herself over Bucky’s arm.  
  
The cats aren’t fond of getting in carriers these days at the drop of a hat and Bucky has to lift Duff into the truck because his hips can’t take the jump anymore. Another reason for Bucky not to be so fond of superheroes, but what can he do?  
  
O’Malley is a proper ginger cat and hates the carrier more than Duchess but Bucky has a system in place now for superhero-related evacuations.  
  
The other dogs are all six and under, so they’re not doing badly, and Bucky refrains from bringing any other animals in because it would start getting more challenging to manage by himself.  
  
He’s got a small house in a cookie-cutter neighborhood, but that’s perfectly fine with him because it comes with a decently sized yard. Big enough for four dogs to zoom around if they’re in the mood, and for a couple of kiddie pools too.  
  
Bucky recently paved the corner of the yard that gets the most shade and put some trees and other plants in so when he sits in his lounge chair, he’s got a comfortable little space. Big enough for three chairs, actually, though he doesn’t do much socializing. He’s got a couple of friends, his family, and the animals and that’s all he needs.  
  
“At some point they’re going to ban them all from New York,” Bucky says to the room at large. “Just ‘cause it’s their home base doesn’t mean it’s okay if there are casualties of fucking war on Fifth Avenue.”  
  
Duff groans and Bucky rubs his chest.  
  
“Not today, pal,” he says. “Today, we’re staying, even if they tell us we have to go.”  
  
Duke, a seventy-pound golden retriever, thumps his tail against the bed he’s laying in by the door, watching Bucky with eager brown eyes.  
  
“We’ll go you-know-where once it all calms down,” Bucky promises him.  
  
This is, of course, when the dogs, including Lanie the forty-pound mutt and Lulu the eight-pound Bolognese, all sit up straight, ears perked up. Even old Duff, who can barely hear anything these days, and Bucky feels his heart pounding.  
  
That’s not a good sign.  
  
But Bucky hears it too now. A faint whistling and he mutes his television to hear it a little better.  
  
“What the fuck is—”  
  
The explosion is shockingly loud and rattles the entire house, debris hitting the windows, and Bucky is behind the couch before he’s processed it, hands against his ears.  
  
It takes him a moment to remember where he is, that this isn’t a desert and there are no IEDs planted beneath his feet. These are New York’s suburbs and Bucky lives in a cookie-cutter house with his animals and any war that’s happening nearby has to do with superheroes.  
  
Doesn’t make his heart calm down, thundering faster than it has since he was in Iraq, and it’s not until the house has long since stopped shaking that Bucky can even grasp Duke and Duff who have followed him because of his own shaking hands. He looks them over, no injuries, and whistles until Lulu and Lanie come out from hiding. All uninjured but shaking, just like he is.  
  
Bucky stands up and glances around the house. All in one piece, mostly, but a couple of windows have cracks in them and are covered in dirt, including his back door, so whatever it was landed in his backyard. Or worse, more than his backyard.  
  
“Jesus _fuckin’_ Christ,” Bucky mutters and looks for the cats, but they’ll be in hiding for a while. He looks at the TV, which is miraculously still on, and there’s no urgent news and his phone is quiet.  
  
If they plan on telling them to evacuate, well, too fucking little too late.  
  
Bucky walks to the kitchen window, which seems to have the least amount of dirt on it, and looks outside into the backyard.  
  
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Bucky mutters as he looks at… destruction. Complete destruction, all in his yard, the surrounding walls still somehow standing.  
  
It’s good nothing landed on his house, he supposes, but he has a crater instead of a plot of grass and yes, his little freshly-paved sitting area is pretty much gone. Plants torn right out of the ground and gone who knows where, and two out of three chairs are destroyed.  
  
“You’ve _got_ to be fucking kidding me,” Bucky mutters and squints at the center of the crater. There’s something in it, not obliterated by the force it hit, and Bucky squints.  
  
He can see red, white and blue.  
  
Bucky waits for a while but it’s quiet out. First responders are in the city, most likely, only a few left behind, and Bucky wonders if his neighbors will call them.  
  
Hesitantly and with a lot of annoyance, Bucky walks to the back door and opens it, frowning menacingly down at the dirt it lets in, clumps of grass stuck to the glass falling to the ground. He steps outside once he’s sure his dogs’ noses are inside still and walks to the end of his patio.  
  
The end of the concrete is the crater’s outer edge and, as Bucky stares down at Captain America, he wonders if the house’s foundation has been fucked.  
  
He’s definitely going to be getting reimbursed for this.  
  
Bucky slowly walks to the middle of the crater, avoiding large chunks of debris, and peers down at Captain America in all his possibly-dead glory.  
  
His mask is gone, half his face is bloody from a cut on his forehead, his fancy uniform torn in about twenty different places, a lot of them bloody too, and there’s a nice piece of metal shrapnel sticking out of his lower abdomen. Bucky presses his foot against his thigh and jostles him, but he doesn’t wake.  
  
“Is that Captain America, Doctor Barnes?”  
  
Bucky is still feeling a little on edge but he tries not to jump out of his skin as he looks up at his neighbors to the south of him. Kathy and John are peering over the fence with their son in John’s arms.  
  
“Sure looks like him, doesn’t it?” Bucky says. “Don’t worry, he’s breathing,” he adds because Mikey looks deeply concerned. “You guys get any damage?”  
  
“Oh, not at all,” Kathy says. “Thought our house was about to collapse, but it seems he managed to avoid flattening anything but your yard.”  
  
“Should we call someone?” John asks.  
  
“The Avengers hotline!” Mikey says excitedly.  
  
“No, honey, those are only recorded messages from the team.”  
  
Bucky leans down when he sees something flashing on Captain America’s wrist and grabs it. He takes his pulse while looking at the flashing watch and he can hear static coming from it.  
  
“Cap? C— Steve? Loca—”  
  
The watch flickers out until Bucky is fairly sure it’s dead, but Captain America’s heart is beating strong and sure.  
  
“He’s going to be okay,” Bucky says and smiles at Mikey. “Nothing I haven’t seen before. I’ll get him inside and patched up. Give Iron Man a call after to come pick him up after.”  
  
Mikey grins.  
  
Kathy takes him away, thankfully, and John offers to help Bucky move him. Bucky is close to turning him down but decides it’s for the best because he doesn’t know what that shrapnel is doing to the man’s organs.  
  
John hops the fence and it’s a good thing because the guy must weigh a thousand pounds. But John listens to Bucky as he tells him how to move him and they get him inside and onto Bucky’s couch a short while later. Bucky thanks John and tells him if the police or fire department come, to send them his way.  
  
He doesn’t know if the police have a direct Avengers-line when one crash-lands into civilians’ backyards, but Bucky is aware that these guys don’t get injured as civilians do. He’s fairly confident Captain America isn’t going to die on his couch, even if it’d make a hell of a story.  
  
Bucky corrals his dogs in the kitchen and washes his hands before grabbing his medic bag and many wet and dry towels both. He closes the gate between rooms behind himself.  
  
When he cuts the uniform away from the Captain’s chest, Bucky has the thought that he’s probably further destroying something that costs a whole lot of money and idly wonders if he’s going to get a bill for it.  
  
“Which I won’t be paying,” he tells Captain America, who is still blissfully unconscious.  
  
It’s easy to go to work on the injury, Bucky’s done it countless times while bombs were still going off around him, and it’s quiet outside for now. Removing the shrapnel is something he’s used to doing and he only does it after guessing by the width of it how deep it’s gone in, which isn’t much.  
  
There’s not a lot of bleeding afterward and once Bucky has gotten a closer look at the wound, he sees that the abdominal wall is likely undamaged. It wouldn’t be undamaged on anyone else and Bucky shakes his head and cleans the wound before stitching it closed. He doesn’t know if it needs stitching or not, but surely Captain America can find his own physician later to remove them.  
  
Bucky cleans the blood off his chest and arms and his face. Out of his hair, as much as he can, and sees that most of the cuts and other injuries are all surface. The one on his forehead could use a couple of stitches but Bucky bandages it instead because, well. The guy’s insides are healing on their own already, so he thinks he’ll be alright.  
  
He grabs the watch the Captain had been wearing and turns it over in his hands. It’s the fanciest thing he’s ever seen, probably costs a million dollars or something, Stark technology, and Bucky doubts it’s much of a watch at all.  
  
They’d been asking for his location and Bucky doesn’t know if they got it.  
  
Sincerely hopes the government doesn’t show up at his door.  
  
Bucky cleans up, disposing of bloody towels and various other things, and gives himself a thorough washing too. He lets his dogs out of the kitchen and a short warning keeps them away from the superhero on the couch, though they stand around peering at him with interest.  
  
After Bucky’s checked his vitals, all perfectly perfect, he grabs a blanket and throws it over him for privacy and because it’s hard not to stare. He may have a lot of opinions about superheroes that he keeps to himself but he’s not entirely immune to flawlessly sculpted men who save the world every other week.  
  
Who heal on their own starting within fifteen minutes apparently too.  
  
Bucky sits in the armchair and stares at the Captain, thinking about what he read when they unthawed the guy. It was interesting then and promptly became uninteresting the first time he helped destroy parts of the city, but Bucky thinks he remembers _rapid healing._ They’d strive for that, of course, when they were trying to make the perfect soldier way back when.  
  
He looks at his back door and windows, cracked the way they are, and doesn’t particularly feel all that sorry for Captain America.  
  
It takes a half-hour or so and Bucky looks between the television and the man on his couch until he notices the Captain’s fingers twitching.  
  
Duff notices too, having slowly edged closer to the couch like he thinks Bucky wouldn’t notice, and he gives up all pretenses and walks to him. Bucky lets him because the most harm he’ll do is bring you to your knees with those wide brown eyes and he’s not worried.  
  
Captain stirs and eventually his brow furrows. Bucky watches his eyes crack open and close again. He’s wincing like he’s in pain but Bucky wasn’t about to shoot him up with morphine without asking first.  
  
But his eyes open again and he blinks at the ceiling before looking to his right and flinching as he sees Duff. Duff doesn’t take offense, he merely starts wagging his tail and dancing and Bucky would laugh at the look on the Captain’s face any other time.  
  
“You didn’t die and go to dog heaven,” he says.  
  
Captain looks quickly at him and blinks for a while. “Uhh,” he says and winces again. Concussion, maybe. “Tell me I’m at least still in New York,” he finally says, his voice hoarse.  
  
“About twenty minutes outside of the city,” Bucky says. “Take it easy. You had that in your abdomen.” He points at the cleaned shrapnel sitting on the coffee table. “I thought the government would’ve come swooping in by now but police haven’t even come by.”  
  
“Should they have?” Captain asks in confusion.  
  
“You put a crater in my backyard,” Bucky says flatly. “I’m sure the entire neighborhood heard and felt it.”  
  
“Oh,” Captain says and blinks for a while like he’s trying to process that. “Sorry about that. Oh,” he says again as he looks at the cracked, dirt-covered windows and grimaces. “Sorry about that too.”  
  
Bucky sighs. “I expect to be reimbursed. My dogs need the yard and there’s not much yard left,” he says. “But in the meantime, I didn’t see any signs of internal damage. Probably a concussion from landing like a meteor into the earth’s crust.”  
  
Captain huffs a little and smiles. “I think I got hit pretty hard before that too,” he says and slowly sits up. When the blanket falls, he looks at the stitches and covers himself up again, like he might be modest. “Uhh, thanks, by the way. I should…”  
  
“Destroyed, I think,” Bucky says and gestures at the coffee table when the Captain looks at his wrist with a frown. “Don’t think they know where you are. Don’t worry,” he adds when Captain looks at him warily. “I have no interest in harming Captain America. If any of my dogs had been outside, though, I would’ve been obligated to.”  
  
“Right,” the Captain says and looks around the living room at the dogs, who are all gazing at him. He tentatively pats Duff’s head, who is more than happy to receive the pats. “Well, this is a first for me,” he says. “Crash-landing in backyards,” he adds when Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Thanks for not leaving me there until I woke up.”  
  
“It was tempting,” Bucky says and smirks. “I just paved out there. But I figured the government probably wants you unharmed so you can help out with all that.” He gestures at the television, still muted but showing the sprawling aftermath of what just ended ten minutes ago. “You need to call someone?”  
  
“Oh,” Captain sighs. “Yes. But when my head stops ringing.” He sits up more, keeping the blanket high on his chest and looks at Bucky.  
  
Bright blue eyes that are becoming a little less glassy looking by the second. Blond hair still slightly matted with blood and the cuts on his forehead, cheek and lip somehow don’t do jack squat to diminish how good he looks.  
  
Bucky isn’t immune and he thinks that’s fair, even if it’s distracting right now. Though he does want to laugh at the man’s modesty.  
  
“Bucky Barnes,” Bucky says because he can see the question on the Captain’s face. “You’re Captain America.”  
  
“Steve,” Captain America says. “I prefer Steve in… most situations.” He sighs as he looks at the windows with a grimace. He looks at the TV and above it before glancing at Bucky. “You served?”  
  
“Ten years. First infantry,” Bucky says. His dog tags are the only things he keeps out in his house outside of his bedroom and Captain America would notice them. “I was a medic, mostly.”  
  
Steve nods. “Then I was in good hands,” he says in that Captain America voice Bucky hears on the TV and with a smile as he pats Duff’s head when he rests it on the couch. “Who’s this?”  
  
Bucky wants to laugh because he thinks that for all Captain America’s silly little adverts and grand, motivational speeches, he’s awkward as shit outside of them. Or maybe he’s just got rattled brains. Still, it helps Bucky not to be so annoyed to see it.  
  
“Duff,” Bucky says and points. “Duke, Lulu and Lanie. That wasn’t permission to get up, guys.”  
  
The dogs don’t listen, joining Duff and sniffing Steve and receiving pats, though Lulu jumps on his lap without so much as a by-your-leave. Steve doesn’t look like he minds. He’s grinning, in fact, and looks about as happy as Mikey was to know Captain America was in his neighbor’s backyard.  
  
“This is much nicer than waking up to thirty civilians surrounding me,” Steve mutters and then coughs like he hadn’t meant to say it. “Sorry for the trouble, Mister Barnes—”  
  
“Bucky.”  
  
“Bucky,” Steve says slowly. “Right. Sorry about all of this. It’s been an eventful day. Looks like they’ve got it under control,” he adds as he looks over Lulu, who is licking his chin, to glance at the television. “Probably think I got abducted.”  
  
“By aliens?”  
  
Steve laughs. “Not today,” he says. “Thankfully. I should probably make that call. Do you…?”  
  
Bucky nods and stands, pulling out his phone and handing it to Steve. “You’re not going to destroy it afterward, are you?”  
  
“The number disappears after dialing it on unauthorized phones,” Steve says. “So no destroying. Thanks.”  
  
“Sure,” Bucky says and leaves the room to let Steve call whatever secret government people he needs to call.  
  
He grabs a couple of water bottles and looks out of his kitchen window at his backyard. A few of his neighbors are peering out of their windows or over the fence and Bucky can’t really blame them. It’s going to be the talk of the neighborhood for the next decade or so and Bucky isn’t looking forward to it.  
  
After crossing the house and finding O’Malley and Duchess curled up together in his bedroom closet, Bucky tries to find a shirt for Steve. There’s the problem of him being taller and broader but after a while, Bucky finds an old t-shirt from a Knicks game he’d had shot at him from one of those tubes and was somehow two sizes too big.  
  
Bucky walks across the house and into the living room as Steve’s hanging the phone up. He hands him the shirt and takes his phone. “Are they sending in the fire brigade for you?”  
  
“Told them just to send one car,” Steve says. “Hopefully that’s all that happens.” He doesn’t seem quite so sure of it himself and once he’s carefully deposited Lulu onto the ground, he stands and pulls the shirt on.  
  
Bucky has a lot of opinions about superheroes, which he mostly keeps to himself, but he’s _absolutely_ not immune to the way Captain Steve Rogers looks. Even if the shirt is still somehow too big on him as well and crashes horribly with the lower half of his uniform. The swelling around the bandage on his forehead is almost all gone, Bucky notices, of course it is, and he definitely doesn’t notice just how blue Steve’s eyes are.  
  
“Do you mind if I look at the damage?”  
  
“By all means,” Bucky says when Steve gestures at the back door. “And maybe tell me which website and which form I need to fill out to get reimbursed for superhero-induced damage.”  
  
“I think there are a few hotlines,” Steve says and scratches the back of his neck. “I’m serious,” he adds when Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Hotlines. A few of them.”  
  
Bucky laughs and shakes his head. “Fuckin’ superheroes. No offense, of course,” he says and leads Steve to the back door. He’s walking just fine and not wincing anymore, so Bucky’s reasonably sure he’s not about to collapse. “It ain’t pretty.”  
  
“No, I imagine it isn’t,” Steve says with an apologetic wince. He steps outside and puts his hands on his hips as he looks around. “Well, shit. Glad I wasn’t awake for the landing.”  
  
“Yeah, lucky you,” Bucky says dryly as he closes the door and stands next to Steve. He runs his hands through his hair and sighs as he looks at his destroyed backyard. “Picking up dog shit off of dirt should be fun until I can get this fixed. It used to be grass.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Steve says, though he’s laughing and clearly trying not to. He looks at Bucky and smiles. A smile worth a million bucks, probably. “You’ve done your country a great honor, you know.”  
  
“Yeah, I know. Spent ten years doing it and hearing it,” Bucky says with a laugh. “Save it.”  
  
“The President would give you a medal if I recommended one.”  
  
“I’ll tell you both to shove it up your asses if you do that. Got enough medals and acknowledgments already. You know what my favorite one has been?”  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
“Veterinarian of the year in the local paper,” Bucky says. “That one meant the most.”  
  
Steve smiles as he peers at Bucky, then out over the backyard. “I think that’d be my favorite too,” he says. “I’ll see if I can do anything about this. So you don’t have to call any hotlines.” He gestures at the yard. “I’m going to be in a meeting for two days, probably, but I’ll make some calls of my own.”  
  
Bucky is entirely sure that’s bullshit but he nods anyway. “Sure. Thanks, I appreciate it,” he says. “You’ve got an audience.”  
  
“I can see that,” Steve says with a smile and waves at a few neighbors who are gaping over the fence at him. “Should probably get back inside before I’m giving autographs to all your neighbors while taking pictures.”  
  
“You’re wearing a Knicks shirt. It’d be even more memorable,” Bucky says with a dry smile. But he walks back inside with Steve and makes sure his dogs don’t try to get out.  
  
Since no one is banging down the door yet and after standing around his living for a few awkward seconds, Steve and Bucky sit back down. The dogs are happy for some company because they flock to Steve and he doesn’t mind. Almost like he hasn’t had a chance to pet a dog in a decade, but that can’t be true.  
  
Bucky watches him and looks at the TV after a while, still broadcasting all the damage.  
  
“What’s it like doing this every week?” he asks as he points at it.  
  
“Not every week,” Steve says. “We average about every two and a half months lately, but it definitely feels like every week. I imagine it’s a lot worse for you, though,” he adds hastily. “Civilians, I mean. I promise this doesn’t happen regularly.”  
  
Bucky smiles. “You probably end up in apartments rather than backyards,” he says. “What the fuck could’ve hit you hard enough to knock you twenty minutes outside of the city?”  
  
Steve raises his eyebrows before he sighs. “Either the people who were responsible for today’s hubbub or friendly fire,” he mutters. “Which happens more often than it should.”  
  
“Do you mean the Hulk grabbed you and threw you out of the city?”  
  
“Well,” Steve says and shrugs. “It’s not unheard of.”  
  
Bucky laughs and shakes his head. “It wasn’t all that long ago that I lived in Brooklyn and the most exciting thing to happen every year was Girl Scout cookies.”  
  
Steve chuckles and then grimaces. “Yeah, it’s been a bit of a mess,” he says. “Brooklyn’s a familiar place.”  
  
“I think I read that somewhere. Probably the Smithsonian when I went before deployment,” Bucky says. “I’m sure my experience growing up there wasn’t much like yours.”  
  
“There’s a lot more color. A lot less smog,” Steve says. “Billboards that scroll through advertisements. But surprisingly, it’s not all that different. Cars move about the same speed.”  
  
Bucky laughs again. “Yeah, I guess they would,” he says and smiles. He grabs a band on the table next to him, which are scattered all over the house and ties his hair back. “So how are you going to make sure this doesn’t happen again?”  
  
“Dunno,” Steve says and looks around the house like he doesn’t get to look around normal houses much either. Like it’s a novel and welcoming experience. “Try even harder not to get too close to anyone.”  
  
“You lost your shield.”  
  
“People usually turn it in if they find it,” Steve sighs. “If someone I know didn’t find it first. One time we found it on eBay.”  
  
“Shit, really?” Bucky asks with a grin. “How much was it going for?”  
  
“Something like twenty thousand, I think,” Steve says as he squints. “Right around there. I think it’s worth a lot more but they were probably trying not to get noticed. It’s got a tracker in it now, but don’t tell anyone.”  
  
“My lips are sealed,” Bucky says with a smile. “What do you think the ruined, bloody upper half of your costume goes for?”  
  
“I call it a uniform,” Steve says defensively, though it’s put-on. “I don’t know. I might have to strongly advise against it. Bad guys can probably do a lot of stuff with my blood.”  
  
Bucky hums in thought. “If you come out of days like today lookin’ the way you do, they probably already have it.”  
  
“You make a good point,” Steve says with a smile. “You could make some good money if the government doesn’t find out.”  
  
“Enough to fix my fucking yard?”  
  
“Hey, I said I’d make some calls,” Steve says with a laugh and scratches Duke’s back when he presses himself against his knees. “I’ll get it taken care of.”  
  
Bucky wants to tell him that’s not going to happen but he doesn’t. There’s a loud, booming knock on the door anyway that makes them both flinch and Lulu and Lanie start barking. Duff boofs with them, but Bucky doubts he knows what he’s barking at.  
  
“Hope that’s your ride,” Bucky says a little dryly as he stands.  
  
“Me too,” Steve says and stands. He grabs the shrapnel and broken watch and they walk down the hall to the front door together. “Thanks for your help, Bucky. Really, you did a lot more than most people would.”  
  
Bucky shrugs as he shoos his dogs away from the door so Steve can open it and looks at him. There are a couple of guys outside the door in black suits and sunglasses, not suspicious at all, but Steve is offering his hand to Bucky.  
  
He takes it and shakes it. “No problem,” he says. “Try to fall somewhere else next time.”  
  
“I will make it a priority,” Steve says with a chuckle and steps outside. He follows the guys, taller than them both, and looks back to point at Bucky. “I’m going to get that yard fixed.”  
  
“Thanks, Captain America,” Bucky says with a salute. He smiles when Steve grins before he’s off toward a waiting black SUV with heavily tinted windows, also not suspicious at all. “Alright, come on.”  
  
Bucky closes the door and walks to the back door as his dogs trot after him. He steps outside and reassures his neighbors that are still peeking that Captain America is healthy and ready to flatten houses before he gets to work on his yard. He needs to pick up some things so the dogs don’t hurt themselves before he can let them out.  
  
It takes a while and Bucky mourns his begonias, which don’t exist in this realm anymore, he’s sure, and the squishy lounge chairs that he spent good money on. The third one isn’t unscathed and Bucky sighs as he thinks about finding the number to one of those hotlines.  
  
“Fuckin’ superheroes,” he mutters to himself as he picks up the torn cushions and takes them to the trash.  
  
——  
  
It’s spring, mid-April, which means it’s pretty nice out. Flowers are blooming, temperatures are perfect, the sun is shining.  
  
Bucky is annoyed by it all. It’s barely past six-thirty and after all the nonsense of yesterday, he would have liked to sleep in on a Sunday. But Bucky had a fun enough time last night trying to get the girls to piss somewhere in the yard without any grass and picking up a bunch of dog shit off dirt isn’t fun with a shovel. He would’ve taken them to the park but there’s not enough light.  
  
But the dogs, probably still mildly unsettled by the explosion of yesterday, woke him up and said it was time to go. He can’t blame them for it, though he is half-asleep on his feet which doesn’t make it any easier to put collars and leashes on everyone.  
  
He’d seen an _L_ and put Lanie’s collar on Lulu, watching it drop to her back, and she hadn’t looked too impressed by that, but it made Bucky giggle to himself. Woke him up a little too.  
  
Still, walking three large dogs and one tiny one down the street before seven in the morning on a Sunday just isn’t right. But Bucky feels guilty about the yard and the park is only five minutes away, so he takes them there and cleans up after them.  
  
They want to play and want a longer walk, but Bucky needs coffee before making that happen and takes them home.  
  
As he rounds the corner, a large truck passes him, carrying a mound of dirt in its bed. Another truck follows it, carrying some nice pavers, and Bucky yawns as he watches them drive to his house and stop in front of it.  
  
He raises his eyebrows and thinks _it can’t be._  
  
“Morning,” the guy driving the first truck says when Bucky stops in his driveway and frowns at him. “Barnes?”  
  
“Ye-es,” Bucky says slowly.  
  
“Sign here,” the man says and warily looks at the dogs as he leans over them to hand Bucky a clipboard.  
  
Bucky frowns down at it for a while. He’s about to ask if Captain America set this up, but they probably don’t know that and he didn’t brush his hair after getting out of bed and four dogs are wound around his legs, so it’s probably not a good look.  
  
He merely signs for the dirt and signs for the pavers, which really are nice.  
  
“Soil and sod should be here in a couple days,” the man says briskly. “The guys will be here soon for the sprinkler system and drainage.”  
  
Bucky blinks at him and frowns when the pavers are unloaded and left on the driveway and the large mound of dirt is carefully set on the street. “You, uhh… you’re going to be filling in the hole, right?”  
  
“We were told labor was taken care of,” the man says. “Should be by soon, I imagine. Only delivering the materials.”  
  
“Right,” Bucky says, a little suspiciously. He watches them finish unloading the dirt and pavers and pats his dogs. They leave not long after and Bucky walks back inside with everyone. “Breakfast.”  
  
That gets a lot of tails wagging and some dancing from Duff, always a good sight, and the cats are already waiting on the kitchen counter for him. Bucky starts a pot of coffee and feeds everyone their various breakfasts.  
  
When you’re Captain America, he supposes, you can get things done on your time rather than anyone else’s. And he would assume Bucky is home at six-fifty in the fucking morning on a Sunday like most individuals are.  
  
“Guess we’re getting it fixed pretty fast, huh?” he asks O’Malley as he rubs against Bucky’s arm while he leans against the kitchen island. “Better damn well be for free.”  
  
He cleans up the bowls and gets some toast and eggs for himself. Bucky sits at the table in the kitchen and tries not to look out of it - what he can see past the dirt, anyway - and eats breakfast and browses through social media. Very much not looking at any news about yesterday, though it’s hard to avoid.  
  
It’s tempting to text Rebecca and tell her what happened, but he thinks he’ll take some pictures and show her tonight at family dinner. She’d be too tempted to come over and survey the damage and ask him a thousand questions about Captain America and Bucky would be forced to say he’s pretty normal and listen to her fantasizing about meeting him like she has for nearly ten years.  
  
Bucky’s sick of it.  
  
He’s pouring his second cup of coffee when there’s a knock on his door. He runs his hands through his hair so it’s flat and walks down the hall. Bucky opens the door and raises his eyebrows as he leans against it.  
  
“Oh my God,” he says blandly. “You look like you’re here to rob me.”  
  
“That is… not very nice. It’s normally a gasp and lots of pointing,” Tony Stark, in the fucking flesh, says. “I see why Cap might like you, though. They are disguises, sir.”  
  
“Hoodies and sunglasses,” Bucky says and looks at Steve, who is grimacing behind him and standing out most of all. “You can’t possibly be the guys here to fix my yard.”  
  
Stark, who is standing in front of the door, shrugs. “Listen, someone said a regular old sprinkler system in an actual backyard needs fixing or replacing due to my coworker’s rudeness. Fixing such a thing would bring me great joy for all its novelty. You have a lot of dogs.”  
  
Bucky sighs and looks at Steve, who shrugs helplessly.  
  
“I told them what happened and they offered to help. I did say I’d get it fixed,” he says. _“We_ are here to fix it.”  
  
Bucky is used to rolling with the punches so he decides to roll with these and steps aside. A quick whistle gets the dogs out of their way and Bucky does feel a whole lot of ways about three superheroes in his home, but really, he’s not going to turn down the free help.  
  
“Tony, by the way,” Stark says once he’s pushed the hoodie off his head and offers his hand. “Bucky, isn’t it?”  
  
“That’s right,” Bucky says as he shakes his hand. “Good to meet you. And…?” He frowns at the third guy.  
  
“Sam,” Sam says flatly. “I go by Falcon sometimes.”  
  
“Right. Falcon. The wings,” Bucky says and smirks a little when Sam sighs like he’s used to this. He looks at Steve, wearing a ballcap now, who is happily scratching Duff behind the ears. “A call ahead would’ve been nice.”  
  
“That’d spoil all the fun,” Steve says as he looks after his… teammates, Bucky supposes, when they walk down the hall toward the living room. “I also don’t have your number.”  
  
Bucky huffs a laugh. “I think you could’ve gotten it pretty easily.”  
  
Steve shrugs. “Well,” he says, “yeah. But I’m a little old-fashioned that way, I guess. Seems wrong to not ask a man for his number in person.”  
  
Bucky chuckles. “I suppose so,” he says. “Might just have to give it to you if this isn’t finished today. Do superheroes take Sundays off?”  
  
“You seem to,” Steve says. “What?” he asks when Bucky frowns. “You’re a superhero to anyone who brings their family members to you.”  
  
That makes Bucky laugh more, probably just because it’s Steve Rogers that’s saying it and as honestly eager as he does. It’s a little cute too, though Bucky will keep that part to himself.  
  
“That’s nice of you to say. I like them better than people most days so it’s a privilege.”  
  
“Oh my God, Steve, what did you do?”  
  
Steve sighs as he looks down the hall. Stark and Sam are walking out into the backyard and Steve looks at Bucky with a smile. “He should be able to fix the sprinklers. I think I can carry some pavers. You don’t need to do anything,” he adds. “It’ll look good as new soon.”  
  
“Hope so,” Bucky says and peers at Steve. The cuts on his lip and cheek are gone and the one on his forehead is only faintly pink raised tissue. Pretty incredible to see, really, and Bucky wonders if Steve realizes how incredible it is still. “Thanks, Steve. Didn’t you say you were going to be in meetings?”  
  
“I was,” Steve says as they walk down the hall. “All the way until two in the morning. That’s alright, though. I’m used to much earlier mornings than this. I don’t think Tony sleeps at all.”  
  
Bucky smiles and walks out back with Steve, keeping his dogs inside. “This is definitely going to get my neighbors looking over the fence again,” he says. “You’re all in civilian clothes, though.”  
  
“Disappointing, isn’t it?” Steve says dryly. “God forbid we look like normal people laying down some pavers.”  
  
“I’d very much like to see you do that,” Bucky says. “Think I’ll sit up here with some coffee and watch.”  
  
“You’ve earned it after yesterday,” Steve says and claps Bucky on the shoulder. “It kept me up over the last few hours, thinking about how I could’ve landed anywhere else. I’m sorry if you suffered the same. And your neighbors.”  
  
“I was thinking that right after seeing where you landed,” Bucky says with a sigh. “Don’t worry, I got sleep. Melatonin helps.”  
  
“Cap would have to take about a million of those to get any real beauty rest,” Sam says as he walks onto the patio. “Guy’s metabolism is off the charts,” he says when Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Sure did a number here. Not even any broken bones when you left a damn crater.”  
  
Steve shrugs. “A miracle of science, that’s what they call me,” he says and smiles at Bucky, shaking his head. “We’ll try to be out of your hair soon.”  
  
“Gate’s unlocked,” Bucky says. “Wheelbarrow and tools are in the shed around the corner. Thanks for this. I wasn’t looking forward to calling any hotlines.”  
  
“Told you you wouldn’t have to, didn’t I?”  
  
“Figured that was bullshit, honestly.”  
  
“Yeah, I could see you were thinkin’ it,” Steve says. “Had to prove it to you before you did call.”  
  
Bucky chuckles. “Kind of you to come out yourself, Steve.”  
  
Steve shrugs. “Planned on it, anyway,” he says. “For the yard, I mean. Seems wrong to not take care of it myself, you know. Being me that did the damage.”  
  
“Oh boy,” Sam says and walks around to the side of the house.  
  
Steve’s cheeks look a little red. “Anyway,” he says. “Spick and span soon enough.”  
  
Bucky grins as he watches Steve. “Right. Spick and span,” he says. “Have at it. I’m getting more coffee. Hope you don’t mind if I get a couple pictures of the yard first. Before and after.”  
  
“By all means,” Steve says before he’s off after Sam.  
  
Standing on the patio’s edge, Bucky takes a few pictures of his destroyed yard and a video from one end to the next. Stark is examining what’s left of the sprinkler system and throws up a peace sign, which Rebecca will get a kick out of.  
  
He’s going to have picture and video evidence of this happening by tonight and no way for his family to interfere in any of it, which is going to feel pretty good after listening to years of superhero talk over Sunday night dinners.  
  
Bucky gets more coffee made and brings out a hot plate for the pot to sit on. The tiny table and two chairs on the patio survived and just need their cushions to be shaken out. He gets the dirt and other debris out of the screen door so the dogs can get some fresh air and watch the _hubbub_ in the backyard.  
  
If he sits in a chair and drinks coffee at nearly eight in the morning while superheroes fix his yard, well, that’s just how his weekend has gone.  
  
If he mostly watches Steve, who occasionally looks at Bucky and smiles, well… that’s part of how his weekend has gone too.  
  
It can’t mean anything. Bucky’s been flirting with people all his life and if they’ve done any flirting that won’t go anywhere, that’s pretty normal for him. But Steve Rogers isn’t a pretty normal guy, even if he might like to be. He had shrapnel in his gut yesterday and is pushing a wheelbarrow filled with heavy brick pavers like it weighs nothing today.  
  
The guy is far from normal and sure, he’s handsome and maybe Bucky would like to take him to dinner or get him in the bedroom, but it’s just not something that can happen. He’s already going to have to deal with talking about this for the rest of his life with his neighbors and his family.  
  
Can’t bring Captain America around for family dinners or Bucky would never know peace in his life again.  
  
So if he watches and smiles and lifts his cup of coffee now and then in acknowledgment to their various swearing at things and Stark’s seemingly genuine joy to get to replace a backyard sprinkler system, well, that’s all it needs to be.  
  
Bucky’s had a lot of strange things happen to him in his life. Growing up in Brooklyn will do that to you. Fighting a war overseas only adds to it, and ten years in the military alters a lot of perspectives. He got out and went to school and became a veterinarian, something he only dreamed about because he was a Barnes and Barneses joined the Army. There would have been even more strange things happening if superheroes had been running around New York City while he was there, but that happened after he moved out here, thankfully.  
  
It’s strange enough to see it played out on TV, strange enough to get alerts on his phone about threats _the Avengers_ have to respond to. Now it’s just plain bizarre, having one land in his yard and survive the fall.  
  
Bucky gets to watch Steve argue with Sam about how to best lay pavers after they’ve filled and packed the yard in with dirt and sip coffee while he does it.  
  
Life is strange, he supposes, but he watches Steve and thinks that Steve’s perspective of life’s strangeness must be far more warped than his own.  
  
But Steve laughs in such a genuine and joyful way and that grin really is to die for. It’s softer when he looks at Bucky and Bucky tries to pretend he doesn’t see that.  
  
He was just thinking yesterday morning that a couple of friends, family, and the animals are all he needs. Bucky still finds that to be true because he gave up on the whole romance thing a long time ago. It took a while and a couple years of therapy to get his head right after he was discharged and school was his main distraction then.  
  
Those hurdles are done and over with but Bucky still hasn’t felt the need for romance. He’s gone on a few dates but he thinks his ability to connect with someone is broken in a way he doesn’t know how to fix. Or even has the energy to fix.  
  
Still, Bucky isn’t immune to Steve Rogers. Isn’t immune to the way he looks in that tight shirt, the way he smiles or the way he talks to Bucky. It makes him want to give his number and ask for a date because he’s pretty sure Steve wouldn’t mind so much. Might still say no, but not for any reason other than being Captain America, who probably can’t date.  
  
But Bucky isn’t thinking of romance to begin with.  
  
The yard looks better, anyway, when it’s going on ten. The hole is filled and the rest of the mess has been cleaned up. Half the pavers have been put down and Sam and Steve seem to be taking extra care to make it look nice.  
  
The dogs are starting to complain, though, and Bucky stands up after organizing the various pictures he’s been taking into a new folder on his phone.  
  
“Going to take them for a walk,” he says when Steve looks at him. “There’s a park just down the street.”  
  
“You want some company?” Steve asks.  
  
_No,_ Bucky should say. _No thanks, not ever, no siree bob, no._ He should especially say no because he sees the way that Sam and Stark exchange a small look and honestly, it’ll end in a world of hurt.  
  
Bucky doesn’t like being hurt. No one does, sure, but Bucky actively seeks out ways to avoid the possibility of it.  
  
“Sure,” is what he says, which is definitely not _no._ “You can take Lanie and Duke.”  
  
Steve smiles and leaves the pavers in Sam’s hands. “What, they pull the worst?” he asks as he walks onto the patio.  
  
“No, Lulu does,” Bucky says and walks inside. The dogs know they’re going to go on a walk and Lulu leaps against his leg while Lanie and Duff whine and Duke thumps his tail against Steve’s leg. “But Lulu weighs eight pounds and I trust my arm better than yours.”  
  
“That’s… well,” Steve says. “I mostly know how to watch my own strength.”  
  
“Yeah, it’s that _mostly_ I’m worried about.”  
  
Steve chuckles and shrugs. “Fair enough,” he says. “How’d you get them all?”  
  
Bucky walks down the hallway and to the coat closet near the door, where three collars, a harness, and leashes hang. He grabs Duke’s and hands it to Steve. “Duke I got ‘cause my parents almost always have a golden retriever and their breeder came to see me at the clinic when the litter was seven weeks old. They don’t normally come to me, see, so this was my mom telling me I needed another dog. Wasn’t going to get another dog, but drove home with him anyway,” he says and hands Lanie’s collar and leash to give to Steve.  
  
“Lanie was a problem child, according to the people who brought her in. They talked about euthanizing her and she wasn’t even a year old. I told them she needed exercise and a lot of it and they talked about getting a better dog. So I took her home ‘cause I wasn’t about to let them take her out of there and to who knows where.”  
  
Bucky grabs Duff’s collar and leash and hooks them together once he’s pushed the collar past Duff’s ears. “Duff here I got when I got out. Adopted him from the shelter when he was a puppy and now he’s a distinguished old man. Been with me through school and opening the clinic,” he says with a smile and grabs Lulu’s much smaller harness and leash. “Lulu here is a lucky lady. Found her cowering under my truck when I was about to head out one morning. Did the whole nine yards looking for an owner and no one ever claimed her. She’s queen bee.”  
  
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Steve says with a chuckle. “Sounds like these guys were lucky you were around. It’s got to be hard to not want to take them all home.”  
  
“Sometimes,” Bucky says with a smile. “Sometimes I remember how much I pay every other week for food and it’s not so hard after that.” He grins when Steve laughs. “Got a couple of cats too.”  
  
“I saw a picture of them,” Steve says as he gestures toward the living room. “The Christmas one with, uhh…”  
  
“My sister, Rebecca,” Bucky says a smile. “We Barneses are pretty bad when it comes to taking them in. She found a young cat and took her home. Had six cats a week and a half later. I took Duchess when she was weaned and adopted O’Malley a couple weeks after so she had more than dogs for company. He was only a month older than her. They’re still hiding in the closet, by the way, after they dared to come out for breakfast.”  
  
Steve grimaces. “I’m sure it was pretty loud yesterday,” he sighs. “Window guys should be here in the afternoon, they said.”  
  
“Window guys?” Bucky groans. “How many people did you call?”  
  
“It’s supposed to rain by mid-week. You need those windows replaced,” Steve says defensively. “And I broke them.”  
  
“They’re under a covered patio.”  
  
“They’ll let humidity in.”  
  
Bucky laughs for a while and opens his front door. “You going to hose my house down before then?”  
  
“I did plan on it,” Steve says as he straightens his ballcap. “Or Tony will do it. I think he likes to get out of the lab sometimes and do normal things.”  
  
They walk outside and Bucky closes the door behind himself. “I’m sure you all do,” he says and walks down to the sidewalk with Steve and the dogs. “I like working in my yard too. Not from the ground up, though. I just put those pavers in three weeks ago. My begonias were flowering and everything.”  
  
“I can call—”  
  
“No, no,” Bucky interrupts. “Please don’t call anyone else unless it’s for pizza. I like to pick out my own plants, anyway.”  
  
Steve nods. “Fair enough. Where do you do that?”  
  
“The hardware store, usually,” Bucky says with a smile. “HQ doesn’t have any yard, does it?”  
  
“Not… really, no. There’s a small courtyard with a tree in it. Fake turf for golf somewhere. Not a garden, that’s for sure.”  
  
“You’ve got a billionaire funding half of the shit you guys have and you have a small courtyard with a tree in it.”  
  
“It does sound pretty pathetic, doesn’t it? I don’t think many of us would have a green thumb.”  
  
“I’m sure you could call some landscapers.”  
  
“The interview process to work in HQ is kind of scary in how stringent it is. I wouldn’t blame landscapers if they said fuck it halfway through.”  
  
Bucky laughs and shakes his head. “Christ. You know, I’m glad I don’t live in the city anymore. I mean, I left before you guys really came around, but I’d probably have gotten out of dodge pretty quickly after,” he says. “Not that you aren’t doing the world a favor when aliens come pouring out of wormholes. I thought I saw weird things in Iraq until that happened. Now everyone you meet just wants to talk about superheroes.”  
  
“From as bitter as you sound, I’d say you aren’t fond of them.”  
  
“I have dinner with my family every Sunday night and Mom and Rebecca love to talk about superhero news,” Bucky says dryly. “I can’t escape it. Literally, I can’t, when it happens in my own backyard. You guys aren’t so terrible, though.”  
  
Steve laughs. “Thank you for thinking so,” he says. “I’ll take _not so terrible_ considering all of it. They don’t live in the city, do they?”  
  
“Nah, about thirty minutes north of me,” Bucky says. “Moved out before I did ‘cause Mom got a nice job offer. I pack up the animals and go there when my phone starts yelling at me to evacuate.”  
  
“Well, shit,” Steve sighs. “See, now you’re just making me feel bad. I clearly have to make it up to you in some other way.”  
  
“Fixin’ the yard ain’t enough?” Bucky asks with a smile as he looks at Steve. “Sprinkler systems are expensive.”  
  
“Hopefully not to the billionaire,” Steve says and smiles at Bucky in a delightfully genuine way. “Maybe I can take you to dinner.”  
  
_Absolutely fucking not_ is what Bucky should say. _No way, no how, out of the question._  
  
“Sure,” is what he does say after a few seconds of not thinking about the consequences. “I mean, can you do that sort of thing?”  
  
“I think so,” Steve laughs. “The ballcap does wonders, you know. Most of the time. Not that I’ll be wearing it at dinner. There are restaurants that value privacy out there, you know.”  
  
“If I have to wear a fucking tie, forget it.”  
  
Steve laughs more. “I think you might look good in a tie,” he says with a smile as he looks down at the sidewalk. “But no, no tie. No dress shoes. What kind of food do you like?”  
  
“All kinds,” Bucky says. “Pretty fond of spicy food after the hot sauce diet.”  
  
“The hot sauce diet does make MREs more palatable,” Steve agrees. “We called it c-rations or k-rations back in my day.”  
  
Bucky chuckles. “I did read that somewhere,” he says. “Bet they were even worse.”  
  
“I don’t know if hardtack ever really improves.”  
  
“You know, you’re probably right,” Bucky says as they round the corner and head to the park in the neighborhood. It’s got a playground for kids and a large area of grass for dogs with a baggie station. “Lulu loves it here.”  
  
She’s pulling on her harness hard enough to be walking on two legs, which always makes Bucky smile, but it gets Steve laughing.  
  
It really is a nice laugh. Everything about Steve is nice, except maybe the superhero part, and Bucky reminds himself he is choosing a path that may end in a world of hurt. A path he actively avoids and he doesn’t think it’s the excitement of going to dinner with a superhero. Bucky doesn’t like them enough for that.  
  
He likes Steve, not Captain America. It’ll probably still end in a world of hurt and Bucky would probably curse them out all the more after… but maybe it won’t.  
  
Maybe it’ll be something better than that.  
  
Bucky picks up after Lulu and Duff and tosses the baggies into the trash by the station. They stay for a while, walking through the grass and letting the dogs get some exercise in. Except Duff, who lays down in the shade of a tree and Bucky lets him because he’s never been a reactive dog.  
  
They chat, mostly about nonsense and not really any superhero things, which is nice too. Steve tells Bucky a little about himself when he asks and Bucky tells Steve a little about himself when he asks.  
  
They get along well, better than Bucky’s gotten along with anyone in a long time. It does worry him, but not as much as it should. Not as much as it did a couple of hours ago.  
  
Some people walk by them as the sidewalk makes a loop around the neighborhood for walking and jogging and bicycling and they shout _good morning_ but they never do recognize Steve. He might be a pretty obviously well-built guy, but most people aren’t going to think they’re passing Captain America, Bucky supposes.  
  
It makes him feel more at ease, the idea of going out with him. Not that Bucky thinks he could’ve said no to Steve no matter what he told himself.  
  
After a while more, they head back to the house.  
  
“When are you free?” Steve asks.  
  
“I have a feeling I should ask you that,” Bucky says with a laugh. “I’m eight to four, usually, with three weekends off. I take a twelve hour shift at the emergency clinic a few miles away from my own on the last Saturday of the month. My schedule is pretty consistent.”  
  
“And Sunday night dinner with the family.”  
  
“That too,” Bucky says. “Ma won’t mind if I miss one, if you’re only free on Sundays.”  
  
“My schedule is only about half consistent, but I’ll text you later on tonight or tomorrow. If you don’t mind, of course.”  
  
Bucky smiles. “I don’t,” he says. He has the thought that he should, but it’s a lot less potent now. “Looking forward to it, actually.”  
  
“Yeah,” Steve sighs, “me too. It’s been a long time since I’ve gone out with anybody.”  
  
“Seventy years?”  
  
Steve huffs and smiles. “Well, no,” he says. “But it feels that way sometimes. I don’t get to wear my hair down often enough.”  
  
Bucky laughs. “I know a little something about that. My own choice, though,” he says. “We’ll have a good time.”  
  
“I think you’re right.”  
  
They walk up the driveway and inside the house. Steve takes the dogs’ collars and leashes off, handing them to Bucky so he can hang them up. When they walk down the hall, Bucky sees Stark in the living room taping up the cracks in the windows with tape he definitely doesn’t own, so Stark brought it himself.  
  
He glances at them. “Didn’t think you two were coming back,” he says. “Sprinklers have been replaced, for the most part, and vastly improved otherwise. Should see that water bill go down. Thank me later,” he adds when Bucky opens his mouth to do just that, “I have a feeling this is not the only time I’ll see you around.”  
  
Stark salutes Steve and heads back out into the backyard. Bucky hears the hose turn on and looks at Steve, whose cheeks are faintly pink.  
  
“Well,” he says and gestures broadly. “I hope he’s right, honestly.”  
  
Bucky laughs and pats Lanie’s head as she presses it against his thigh. “Play your cards right, pal, and we’ll see how this goes.”  
  
“I’m good at cards,” Steve says with a smile. “I think it’ll go just fine.”  
  
Bucky leans against his couch. “You’re very confident.”  
  
“Sometimes you gotta be,” Steve says. “If it means anything, I’m only confident because I don’t think it’s ever been this easy.”  
  
“You callin’ me easy?”  
  
Steve shakes his head with a sigh. “See, you’re going to fit right in. But you know what I mean.”  
  
“I do,” Bucky says and smiles. “That’s probably the part that scares me, though.”  
  
Steve hums thoughtfully. “I can see why that might be,” he says and moves closer. “And I’m not saying it’s not scary for me either. It definitely is. But maybe we can help each other out with that.”  
  
Bucky peers at Steve and sees that he means what he says. It’s not that Bucky thinks Steve might lie to him or anything, but too much optimism and things tend to start going wrong, in Bucky’s experience. Low expectations, never get hurt, and all that.  
  
But Steve is optimistic about this because he’s optimistic about Bucky. And there’s got to be something in that, Bucky thinks, because he knows Steve isn’t looking at everyone around him the same way. He probably meets new people every damn day, poor guy, and Bucky doesn’t think he’s anything special himself, but Steve looks at him and sees something that maybe Bucky doesn’t.  
  
He can’t really feel anything but pretty optimistic himself.  
  
“Maybe we can,” Bucky says with a faint smile. “I’d like to try, anyway.”  
  
“Can’t ask for more than that,” Steve says and he’s close enough to touch. “Thank you, though, for wanting to.”  
  
“When the sky starts raining men, it doesn’t really seem like there’s much you can do except look at is as some kind of sign.”  
  
“Hallelujah to that,” Steve says with a grin.  
  
He’s close enough to touch, so Bucky does, taking the front of Steve’s shirt in hand and pulling him down to kiss.  
  
Steve doesn’t seem to mind one bit.  
  
A loud spray against the window near them a little while later makes them pull apart and look at it.  
  
Stark smiles and waggles his fingers. “They’re kissing,” he says over his shoulder to Sam. “Called it.”  
  
Steve only lifts one finger in return and Stark drops his jaw in mock outrage before moving on to the next window to hose it and the rest of the house down.  
  
The window guys will be here at some point, Bucky remembers, and looks at Steve with a dry smile.  
  
“Yeah,” is all Steve sighs before he’s smiling. “You wouldn’t happen to want to go out tonight, would you?”  
  
Bucky laughs and pulls him down for another kiss because it’s just that damn easy.  
  
Captain America crash-landed in his backyard and Bucky wasn’t taking that as some kind of sign then. But he does now, in some way, and it feels good. It feels right, kind of like two puzzle pieces slotting together.  
  
The dogs trust Steve and if they trust someone, even on a day like yesterday, well, it means Bucky can too.  
  
Bucky has a lot of opinions about superheroes that he mostly keeps to himself, but he supposes meeting the man behind the mask and seeing Steve for who he is might just soften those opinions.  
  
Not such a bad thing, in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh no, a second Stucky fic in a week. Still really nervous about writing in this fandom as I'm very new to it and haven't read fic in ages. But I hope you enjoyed it all the same! Kudos and comments mean a lot to me, thank you <3
> 
> Big thanks to Erin and my momma, as always. Love you both lots!!
> 
> My friend Artemis inspired me to write this dynamic, which I'm quite fond of myself. :D
> 
> [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vtforpedro)


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